


Oh To Be Alone With You

by Dissipating_Mango



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, Pining Zim, Unresolved Sexual Tension, a heaping spoonful of codependent musings, confusing feelings, mildy dubious consent, no smut but it does come close, this is what I like to call the intersection of zade zadf and zadr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22486078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissipating_Mango/pseuds/Dissipating_Mango
Summary: Eighth grade graduation leaves tensions spilling into confessions. Trust is a funny thing...
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 89





	Oh To Be Alone With You

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, the title shamelessly comes from Alone With You by Hozier. I can't help myself. Second person POV again but this time it's Zim, soooooo fingers crossed it sounds halfway decent. Enjoy! :D

"Zim Human, please step forward to receive your certificate."

Legs dangling before they hit the ground, you flop out of your black plastic chair and walk across the rickety stage. With plastered grins you choose not to mirror, an adult you don't care about places the so called 'certificate' in your outstretched palm, where you wrinkle it immediately.

A measly piece of paper. How dull. This wasn't even the piece of paper humanity stressed a great deal of importance on, the one accompanying gowns and strangely rectangular hats.

Eighth grade graduation. Puh, what nonsense. You walk to the line of bored children standing single file against their will. Wretched hoots and hollers are sounding from the crowd as parents cheer on their pathetic worm babies for completing another three years of education. You can barely contain a scoff. Skool was nothing compared to elite training, something you choose to remember fondly out of obligation and necessity, rather than honesty.

Your attention doesn't snap back to the celebrations until another name has finally been called that you recognize.

"Dib Membrane, please step forward to receive your certificate."

Jaw clenched, you wait for the inevitable cheering to roar up again, but to your surprise, there is nothing. Not even a cough, the crowd is hush.

It is dead silent.

Tentative footsteps echo quiet over cheap wood and his face looks a crude pink, hands curled at his sides. Without his usual black trenchcoat, it's almost like a piece of him is, missing. His hair is slicked back, neck decorated with a blue tie that hangs over a white buttoned shirt you know signifies some sense of formality. Even his glasses look cleaner than normal, only giving you a better view of sad, longing eyes.

He takes the paper and shuffles to the end of the line, gaze directed at the floor as another name you don't care to pay attention to is called and the cheers roar once again.

The rest is a boring blur of speeches and congratulations and you are whisked off the stage to go greet your families before the big pizza party. Sticky fingered children embrace loving parents and a part of you aches for something you never knew. Wrapping your arms around robo-mom, who smells rusty with neglect, you can pretend. That's what Invaders are supposed to do. That's what you do. Pretend.

Like a cruel spotlight, you can pick Dib out of the crowd by the way he stands alone in the middle of the room, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt. Other children avoid him, giving a wide radius of emptiness he wields with shame; as if he were the shortest soldier in the troop and everyone was waiting for him to fall as bait and watch gnashing teeth crunch his PAK.

Something inside you bubbles up. Pity, perhaps. Of course, you pity all inferior lifeforms, and this feels different from that so, maybe it isn't pity.

It's... It's weird.

He almost reminds you of GIR in a way you can't quite place your finger on.

Whatever it is, this emotion has you walking towards him, despite not being in your best interest and, naturally, his body contorts in your presence. Shifting from a limp, weightless hold to something aggressive and off putting.

"What do you want Zim? Shouldn't you be showing off your dumb robots again?" He says, shoving hands roughly into the pockets of his slacks. When you don't respond immediately he snaps at you.

"What!?"

"Where is your father-parent? Shouldn't he be here?"

For some reason, your innocent question makes him even more upset. Jaw clenched, he walks towards you, backing you into the wall and overstepping your personal space. Up close you can smell the light breezy scent he was doused in; another human formality.

"What would you know about parents alien-scum? Weren't you born in a tube?"

"Weren't you?"

His squinted eyes and quivering lips quickly remind you that was not the right answer. Right, humans were made organically. Primitive creatures that bred like cattle. And he's staring you down like a furious bull.

"That's not funny Zim."

"It wasn't meant to be..." You falter. Taking a quick look behind him, he shoves you into the wall and walks away, sour look still on his face.

Hmmpf. Well if he wants to act that way, so be it. That's what you get for being nice. You dust off your tunic, part ways with the robo-parents and are quickly ushered into a skool bus. Arms bent at your sides, you hopelessly scour for an empty seat, of which there are none. It seems like everyone has a bus buddy. Everyone except...

"Sit down Zim!" an adult's voice shouts at you. Reluctantly you obey and sit next to, ugh, _Dib_. The seat isn't very large and you're practically falling off the edge trying to keep your distance.

"Oh great..." he mumbles, looking out the window. You can see his apathetic face in the reflection, his hair starting to pop back up to it's crazy state. He hates that word.

"Like I'm enjoying this anymore than you are, earth-stink."

"Shut up. Just because you're sitting next to me doesn't mean I want to talk to you." Framed as an insult was a masqueraded piece of advice from someone who had to learn that the hard way.

It's quiet, between you two anyway. The rest of the bus is a chaotic smorgasbord of squeals and guffaws. Adolescent hands stick outside bus windows while someone sings expletives to a catchy beat. The noise is slightly dampened by your wig, your only fortress against the orgy of sounds that make your skin crawl. Privately, you thank the universe for placing you next to Dib, if only because he was so quiet.

Unusually quiet.

And yes you're grateful, but something feels off to see him, like _this_. That emotion returns, the one you can't describe. Talking, once again, is clearly not in your best interest and yet...

"Human celebrations are pitifully dull. I haven't been this bored since I first traveled to this filthy dirt ball with nothing to do besides listen to GIR sing the most _infuriating_ "

Dib sighs and cuts you off. "Stop."

"Eh? Stop what?"

"The- this!" He shoves a hand in your direction, waving it in the air. "Stop with the friend act. I don't like you Zim. Whatever you're planning can wait just, leave me alone."

You swallow. The vibrations of the moving vehicle soak into your fingertips and shake Dib's glasses. It can't be comfortable to have his face pressed against the window like that.

Why do you care?

Your eyes map his body, something you do frequently now that he's got a few inches on you. Just a couple really, hardly a difference at all, but enough to make your squiddlyspooch churn with, _something_. Spite, hate, jealousy you aren't quite sure which but his height is a wretched fact you choose to ignore most days.

Eyes linger on the soft folds and creases of his stupid white shirt. You hate how he looks in white, and from the way he holds himself, it looks like he does too. It's too sharp a contrast to his dark hair, too close a hue to his own pale skin.

The artificial scent hangs thick in the air around him. Your close proximity only reminds you how different it is from his normal, thirty degrees left of salty smell.

You look away and swallow with shallow breaths. For some reason, he is overwhelming you. Maybe it's the silence.

"Today is a celebration, yes?"

Dib shrugs.

"Unlike you inferior simpletons, _I_ was trained to take diplomatic events very seriously." That isn't exactly true for aliens like Dib, but he wouldn't know. Part of you still wants to cling to the traditions you remember, and he is the only one suitable for such engagements. "I propose we put aside our differences and interact as fellow, _normal_ human graduates for the duration of this peaceful festival."

He raises an eyebrow and sneers. "What, like a truce?"

"Yes!"

It takes a beat for you to realize he was mocking you.

Oh.

"WE'RE HERE!" A booming voice sounds out from the back of the bus. Soon enough, a mob of excited teens are scrambling to get off, pushing and shoving with no sense of organization. You cringe in your seat, shoulders raised as if that could hide you from the typhoon. Dib isn't moving, knowing by now it's easier to simply wait for everyone else to leave first.

The only ones left, for the briefest of moments, he slides past you and your bodies make contact. Breathe held. He makes you feel like cherry soda; sticky feelings and harsh bubbles pounding in your chest.

And then he pushes you to the ground.

"Get out of my way."

Dib runs like you're fast on his tail despite your bemused, languid movements. Gum sticks to the bottom of your boot and makes a subtle 'shlick' sound with every step and you try not to think about where this chewy half-food has been. Eugh.

Last one off the bus, it drives away the second your feet hit pavement.

The building is large and grimy looking on the outside and you can only imagine the cesspool of germs inside. Actually, you don't want to imagine. The very thought is making you wrinkle and grimace.

Dib, forever on the outskirts of his peers, is hovering by one of the parent volunteers. He's babbling but the large man he's speaking to seems to be ignoring him. Ugh! That's not fair! _You_ wouldn't ignore him, but he didn't _want_ to talk to _you_.

Maybe it's pathetic you're yearning so hard for his attention but- wait, no. No!

You are Zim. Zim does not yearn. And Zim especially does not yearn for the Dib.

You don't really care if he pays attention to you or not, he is the enemy. He's a disgusting, pitiful human worm baby who looks pathetic when another adult shoves him to the side and tunes out his rambles. You should be laughing at his misfortune not...

Not whatever this is.

Pulling on your antennae is cathartic and you would've done so had you been at home. Settling for claws dug deep into your palms, you try to shake off the uncomfort.

"Uh, excuse me, but I need you to take off your gloves please."

A greasy looking girl with too many freckles and too many teeth holds a stamper in an accusatory fashion.

You scoff. "I will not be removing my gloves and risk exposing myself to the disgusting air of this, pizza establishment."

A wheezy sigh.

"Look kid, stamp or you don't get in," she drawls. 

"Over there you buffoon!" you cry, finger pointed behind her. "A radioactive monkey! Of Doom! And... Cheese!"

She turns around and you sneak under the roped off entrance. "Huh? I don't see any- Hey! Where did you go?"

Perfect. You're so clever and skilled, the pathetic worker will never suspect a thing.

The moment you make it to the other side you pop to standing immediately and shudder. From the way the floor squishes under your weight like a soiled sponge, you begin to wonder if this carpet has _ever_ been cleaned, let alone recently.

It stinks of canned tomatoes and mildew as you walk through the dining area; hardly a better scent then fry oil, but at least _this_ aroma won't make you nauseous with shame. There are candy colored play structures reminiscent of hamster... tube-home-thingies, surrounded by equally bright foam balls. Humans scuttle like rodents above your head, faces smooshed in clear windows, gappy teeth smiling.

You were told the skool rented out this disgusting house of pizza for the evening but human smeets are running around and they _clearly_ did not just graduate the eighth grade. A particularly obnoxious little larva runs in front of you and causes you to face plant directly on the soggy floor you are dreadfully accustomed to.

"FILTHY EARTH CHILD!" You cry, peeling yourself up. Doom is in its immediate future.

"Why are you green?" It asks with big blue eyes, blonde locks bouncy behind pink ears. This child is so cute it's disgusting. It makes you want to rip each of its limbs off one by one and shove them in the ball pit.

Another voice chimes in from behind you as you make your way to standing.

"See Zim? Even a little kid can see through your stupid disguise! You may have fooled everyone else but there's one thing that's no match for paranormal creatures and that's dogs and children! Oh, well, actually that's two things but-"

Dib turns around and pauses at the realization the child had stumbled away, blissfully uncaring.

A quick readjustment of your wig. "I would hope you can assemble a better army then human smeets, _Dib_."

"Oh like _you_ could do better. And I wasn't assembling an army!"

"Puh, not with that attitude."

Your eyes trail over his body for the second time today. His tie is loosened and his hair is a mess and by all means he looks _worse_ for wear but-

In your eyes, he actually looks better.

The crazed smile he has when he locks on a target, namely _you_ , might just be enough to distract him from whatever he was moping around for. You give chase, undeniably ecstatic to have his focus back on you. His attention is all yours.

There's no real way of knowing if he enjoys the game as much as you do, but you have your theories. He pushes children out of the way without batting an eye and it practically makes you swoon. You're all he cares about in this moment and that's less of a stroke to your ego and more of a full on massage you are gladly eating up, like the soon to be hi-skoolers with their cheap pizza.

Speaking of such, you accidentally bump into one. Your abrupt stopping causes Dib to trip and fall over.

"Ow!"

Three boys turn around, their brown haired ringleader scowling at you. The weakest looking of the three hides something behind his back, stepping in front of the strawberry punch bowl.

"Get out of here freaks."

Dib stands up, squinting at the nervous boy.

"What are you guys... doing?"

Dib needs to shut up. They're obviously doing something they're not supposed to and you have no desire to get dragged into it. He shouldn't care about these stupid delinquents, not when you're around.

"Wait, are you, spiking the punch?"

"None of your business psycho. Why don't you go screw your boyfriend and leave us alone," the brown haired boy mutters. His grotesque face would look so much _better_ bloodied and punctured with your PAK leg, crooked teeth in a pile on the floor. You clench your fist.

"Zim is NOT my boyfriend," Dib grumbles, looking at the ground.

"Ha! Then I guess even weirdos have standards!" One of his lackies jeers from the sidelines. "Creep is always taking pictures of him, can't blame the green kid for not wanting that mess."

"Bet he jerks off to the stalker photos too."

You aren't exactly sure what that means but from the way Dib flusters and turns pink, and the way the boys are laughing at his expense, you can make an educated guess it's something embarrassing.

"You guys are gonna get in so much trouble when they find out what you're doing..." Dib mumbles.

"You tell anyone, you're dead stalker." The leader sneers at him and leans back. "Not that anyone would believe you. Hey! Did your daddy get sick of your conspiracy theories too? Huh?" The bully leans over him, casting your enemy in a light shadow. "Or did he finally realize you're such a fuck up, he didn't wanna get his hands dirty when you shoot up a skool?" You can almost see his spirit disintegrate as Dib wilts and gives up, walking away.

Overcome with satisfaction, the brown haired cretin turns to you with a grin and the blonde resumes pouring the restricted substance into the punch.

You hate him. Visions of disemboweling this wretched boy with your PAK legs disguise be damned are flooding through your mind like heavy syrup on waffles. No one else is allowed to make Dib feel bad. Only you. You're special. 

Without thinking, you storm over to the punch bowl and pick it up, silently noting the heavy weight of liquid in your hands. Before he can even get a word in, you splash him with the entirety of the sweet juice and scuttle away, unsubtle laughter escaping your mouth.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

They try to chase you, but _you're_ a trained soldier and _they're_ intoxicated fourteen year old human worm babies. It's not much of a challenge to lose them in the crowd.

You're searching for Dib in the meantime but there's no sign of him anywhere and the building isn't very big, so he's gotta be around somewhere unless...

He might've left.

Ugh. It wasn't like he had any reason to stay, but tracking him down would be more inconvenient if he was already a block away in any direction. But, you know Dib. And if he's upset enough, you know exactly where he is.

Escaping the building was easier than entering it. Evidently, the volunteers were more invested in the shallow entertainment of the restaurant (and sneaky drinks under the table to take the edge off) than keeping an eye on the well being of their kids.

It must be late, the sun finally starting to make it's descent and chill the earth from it's scorching hot day. This isn't the first summer you've gone through on this planet, but it's definitely hotter than last year's. You finally catch a glimpse of Dib's unmistakable silhouette against the orange sunset on the top of a grassy hill. He likes to look at the stars on this hill, occasionally bringing a telescope or a notebook. On days when he's upset he doesn't bring anything, just lays there, letting the sky engulf him like a blanket before walking home.

Sometimes you wish he knew when you were watching. Sometimes, you wish he would invite you to watch and you could point out all the planets you knew together, and you could laugh as he tries to keep up but really there's no competition and you both know it; he's never been up there like you have.

The ground is pliant under your feet, the edges of your boots digging into the dirt. Dry, but it rained not long ago and the Earth is still soft because of it.

"Dib?"

He glances at you, unmoving.

Supposing no response is better than an un-invitation, you sit down next to him, ankles crossed, hands in your lap.

The sun kisses his arms, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to expose pale skin. Top button undone. His tie is gone too, leaving you a scenic display of his neck you rarely get a chance to savor due to the popped collar of his trenchcoat. The only word that comes to mind at first is vulnerable. Then, when the wind rustles his hair and the orange light casts a soft glow, _gorgeous_.

He's overwhelming you again. You're too sensitive.

It's quiet but even if you wanted to talk, you can't. Tongue tied. The words currently swirling around don't want to leave your head, though in actuality, that might be a good thing. These are reoccurring thoughts you've never had the courage to speak aloud.

You didn't _have_ to be enemies. The only reason you were was because Dib wouldn't leave you alone. If he stopped being a threat to your mission you could even be borderline _amicable_.

Your mission... Right.

Your _fake_ mission. Maybe Tak thought it was some grand surprise when she tried to tell you it wasn't real; _of_ _course_ it wasn't real.

But you could make it real.

The Tallest didn't expect you to succeed, and in your greatness, you were going to prove them wrong. You were going to take a banishment and turn it into a destiny. Take their neglect and turn it into attention. Take their resentment and turn it into adoration.

You vaguely recall a human metaphor about sow's ears and silk purses.

All Irkens need a purpose, it's part of your coding. Your purpose could be anything from servitude, to invasion, to research, to leadership, to killing, to repairing; to the warm amber eyes of a human boy inches from your body. Choosing your own purpose was strictly forbidden, but could you really be blamed if it wasn't your choice this time?

They had a word for what you are. But right now, you'd rather fantasize.

You could show him the stars. He'd love it. You know he'd love it, he talks about it fondly to himself when he thinks no one else is around. You could take him to galaxies he never knew existed. You could turn your bitter hatred into something else in the vastness of non-Irken space, away from prying eyes where anything was possible.

Like a heavy mallet, epiphany crashes through your head, nailing in the final realization of the evening. You are both so very alone. But, what if you were alone together?

The words tumble out before you can stop.

"We don't have to do this."

He looks at you like you have turned into a living blob creature.

"What are you talking about?"

"We don't have to..." You swallow, deciding to double down on your mistake. "Hate each other. There isn't any point."

"What do you mean? Of course there's a point! You want to take over the Earth and I have to protect it! We're on opposite sides!"

No. He had it wrong. This was not a war, there was no one else. You're both alone in this fight.

"There are no sides!" You finally meet his glaring eyes. "There's never _been_ any sides! They hate you! Why are you fighting for them?"

The wind isn't cold but he shivers anyway. Nature shakes in the bluster, tree branches dancing to the serene sound.

"Do you ever think about running away Dib?"

Shut up.

"I could take you anywhere. We could leave this wretched planet and decide our own lives. I've done it before! It isn't as hard as it sounds!"

You're admitting too much.

"I could show you whatever you wanted! We could- we could..."

He's shaking his head and you want to cry. You want to curl up and deactivate at his expression, it's making you sick. Sicker than you've ever felt before. Why are you telling him this?

"I can't- I..." He mutters. "You don't..."

White knuckles rip up grass blades and part of you wishes he was clenching real ones just to even the playing field. It hurts. You don't know why, but it hurts.

"Is this your idea of" He grips the ground harder. "What kind of sick fantasy is this Zim? You want me to... to give up? Just because you said so? How is that any different from what everyone else has been telling me!?"

"It _is_ different!"

You mimic his actions and dig your own fingers into the grass. Of course it's different, when it comes from you.

"Oh yeah?" Dib scoffs. "How so?"

"I'm trying to make you _more_ happy! Not less!" You cry. "My mission isn't real, therefore, neither is yours! You have no purpose! I can give you one! We can be each other's purpose!"

"That's ridiculous! Why would you WANT me to be your purpose Zim!?"

"Grh! You _insufferable_ foolish beast! Don't you get it!? You already ARE!"

A sharp inhale. It's quiet again. You hate the quiet. It leaves you with dizzying thoughts you hate thinking about and conclusions to jump to with no restraint. Dib is frozen.

You said too much. You know that.

You half expect him to just up and walk away like he had been doing all day. You're braced for rejection when you mess up. It's not something foreign to you.

The hand suddenly resting on top of yours, is.

"Am I... that important to you?" He swallows.

Of course he is. He's more than just important, more than just an enemy, more than just an obstacle. His gentle touch makes you squirmy and overwhelmed. This isn't something you're used to.

"Yes, you stupid, _stupid_ human. Zim already said that." Your voice may have been confident but inside? Oh you're crumbling faster than ancient Vortian architecture. Mouth dry. Spooch in knots.

Fingers wracked with tremors lace together. 

The night sky is so blank compared to what's really out there. You scoot closer, the two of you touching from hip to knee, hands held and resting on your thigh.

"My dad... We had a fight last week," Dib starts, running his empty hand through his hair. Confessing seems to be contagious tonight. "Uh, a really big fight. I accidently found out something I wasn't supposed to..."

He falters and you squeeze his hand, gently urging him to continue. There's a sense of rapture below his misery; a dying star about to supernova right next to you.

"I found out I'm not, I wasn't..."

A deep breath.

"I'm a clone," he blurts out. "My dad made me, cloned himself to make me. I found the files of my experiment in the restricted section of his lab. I didn't, uh, take it well."

"Why?"

His chest shakes with a hollow chuckle. "For a lot of reasons, I guess. Having my destiny determined before I was even born _made_. Knowing that I'm just, a copy of someone else, that I'm just a tool for some bigger plan..."

He swallows roughly.

"So I told him... I said that he wasn't my dad. That he was just a crazy scientist with a god complex that ruined my life. And then I said didn't want to see him ever again, and that wouldn't be hard 'cause he's never home anyway, and that made him... really pissed."

His heart is pounding, the rush of his blood candies an anxious symphony.

"He said I would be really upset if I never saw him again, and I-" Another swallow. "He left. I haven't seen him since. We've never fought this bad before, I thought he was bluffing..."

Tears in his eyes make you want to burst. He squeezes your hand harder.

"I thought he was gonna show up today anyway..." Dib mumbles softly, hiccupy breaths between words. "But I was all alone. I'm always alone." His laugh is hollow and shaky. "Sometimes it feels like everyone on the planet hates me..." 

You know that feeling heartbreakingly well.

He sniffles and rubs the tears out of his eyes with the heel of his palm, wiping his nose on his shoulder.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this. You don't care. You probably shouldn't even know."

Yes, you probably shouldn't know, but…

"I do care."

"No, you don't," Dib mutters, shaking his head. "Not for any good reason."

"I do!" You snap. How dare he try to tell you how you feel about his big dumb head full of hurty feelings you unfortunately understand.

"Fine! Geez."

You sit in a manic silence together, watching the sky turn darker and darker until thousands of pinpricks light it up again. It's a blur, but at some point you both lie down, the cool grass tickling the back of your head.

Dib's breathing is heavy, fingers clenching and unclenching around your hand. His face is pink again.

"F-for the record," he starts. "I don't do that creepy stuff Rob was talking about earlier…"

"What creepy stuff?"

"With the um, pictures. I promise I don't do _that_ with them! I send them to The Swollen Eyeball sometimes but that's it! They're only for documentation!"

He seems to be implying something but you have no idea what it is.

"Elaborate. I am still confused."

"You know what? Nevermind." Dib shakes his head, still blushing.

You scoff. "No! Tell Zim what you do with the pictures!"

"I _don't_ do that with the pictures!"

"What is the ' _that_ '!? _Tell me_."

He makes a small distressed noise and rubs his face. "Do you seriously not know? We're going into hi-skool Zim!"

Your blank expression says all. Dib sighs.

"They were talking about, uh, masturbation…"

"I am not familiar with that word."

" _Oh god_ … okay you know like, touching yourself?"

"Aren't you always touching yourself?"

"No! Um, well I don't know if it's different for aliens but like, touching yourself between your legs…"

There? That's an odd place to touch yourself. You've never tried that before. With your empty hand, you drag a finger along your crotch and wonder what the big deal is.

"N-NO!" Dib stutters, and you jolt. "You can't do that in front of me! Well, I mean you _can_ actually but- no wait that sounds wrong- I just mean it's possible but I'm not saying that you should, if you _wanted_ but that would be different, uh-" He flounders, crossing his legs. "It's _private_."

It's amusing to see him this flustered.

"Why is it private?"

"It just is!"

"That's a terrible answer." You catch him sneaking a glance back at your body and he lets go of your hand, instead choosing to pick at the edge of his nail.

"I saw that."

"Saw what?"

"You looked at me."

"I did not!" He chews his lip. "And even if I did, that doesn't mean anything, you're right next to me, it's hard to not look at someone next to me."

"Why is this, masturbation thing, private? What purpose does it serve?" You ask, determined to understand why Dib was suddenly so reluctant to look at you directly.

"I don't know, it doesn't really have a purpose, it just uh, it feels good?"

"Pictures of Zim make you feel good?"

"NO! No not like that!" Dib exclaims. "Didn't we just go over this? Why do you keep bringing it up?"

He avoids your gaze, still picking at his weak human claws.

"Is this how aliens flirt? Are you flirting with me?"

Flirting?

His hand brushes the edge of yours.

"What's reproduction even like on your planet?"

"Hm. A vast majority of information regarding the production of new Irkens is classified but-" You wave a hand. "Cloning mostly."

"Oh."

He rolls over to face you, and you do the same.

"So, you're a clone too?"

"All Irkens are. I'm from batch 572JH. Eh, we're an unusually small batch but..."

He doesn't need to know the details about horrible painful overload day.

"Still just as great."

It's cute how his little flat tongue pokes out of his mouth when he concentrates. You swear he's closer, but you didn't notice him shift at all. Were you the one who moved?

"So your people don't have babies the old fashioned way anymore?"

"No, we no longer produce smeets organically."

"Well, that explains your ignorance towards sexual euphemisms." He pauses, eyes on your mouth. "Has your kind ever tried to uh, do it anyway? As an experiment or um…" He scoots closer, light breaths landing on your skin making you woozy. "...Or just for fun?"

Your pulse is hammering out of your chest. Everything feels like you're looking through a wet window and trying to grasp at the details unsuccessfully. It's a miracle any words leave you at all.

"I-" you gulp. "I don't know?"

"Oh."

Blood pounds in your head. Dib is far too close and not close enough and far too overwhelming and not overwhelming enough and all you can think about is how much it all feels right as his lips brush against yours. And you can't help but whimper when he does it again, this time planting themselves and parting gently. You're along for the ride and he doesn't seem to mind being the chauffeur.

Not wanting to be outdone, but still cautiously tentative, you mimic the movements of his lips, opening in time with his. Your body is shaky and on fire and you haven't been this scared in quite some time; by all means you should hate what he's doing to you.

But you, don't.

His hand settles in the dip of your waist as he rolls you softly onto your back. You're positive the sound you would've made, had your mouth not been occupied, was above his hearing range.

You're letting a filthy human kiss you and you _like_ it.

Dib breaks first, panting and bright red, giving a little nervous laugh. It looks like he wants to say something, and you'd be willing to hear him out, but he leans back down and you're plenty satisfied with that.

His hand pinches the edge of your tunic. And then it dips underneath, stroking the soft flesh of your abdomen as Dib kisses harder. His hand is hot to the touch, flat and pushing up even further to your chest, almost like he's looking for something.

Two can play that game.

You fumble with the buttons of his shirt but your fingers are so shaky and your eyes are closed so that goes about as well as a trip to the grocery store with GIR. Impatient, you tug his shirt free from his pants and shove your hands under his clothes. Copying his actions, you reach his chest, noting the two small peaks that harden under your fingers. He makes a funny noise when you touch them. Actually, all of his noises are pretty odd, nothing like you've ever heard him sound like before. This is nothing like you've ever _felt_ before.

Instinct burns between your thighs and you wrap them around Dib, soaking up his quiet whine of approval. It's warm, so warm, he feels like fire. A thin string of saliva connects your mouths when he breaks to speak.

" _Whoa_ , uh wait Zim, I-" He whimpers and tries to pull away for just a second, but your legs squeeze tighter and he presses against you instead. "Oh god..."

His hips roll against yours and it's an even more foreign sensation. For some reason, your body feels tingly, almost vibrational. Fingers push soft circles into your chest before they drag to your hips and hold you down. It smells like grass and salt.

"Oh god Zim... oh god oh god."

When he kisses you again, it isn't soft and gentle like he's trying to persuade. This feels like a demand, a claim. He sucks on your bottom lip, presses hard, and lasers fire in your belly.

You feel really, really weird.

He's enjoying it, he's enjoying _you_ , but you feel weird and full and sparkly in a place you've never thought about before and your muscles ache from holding that tension in. He doesn't notice your growing anxiety and you're not sure how much longer you can keep it together. And as scared as you are of what it means, a large part of you still doesn't want to slow it down. 

As it turns out though, the decision would be made for you. Just as the intensity begins to reach its tipping point, he rubs against you heavy and fast, before abruptly stopping with a shudder. Face sweaty and arms shaky.

"Oh. Oh…"

He rolls onto his back and you miss the warmth. Everything is still oddly hot and zappy, but his distance is muffling that fire by the seconds.

"Did you...? Probably, probably not uh, nevermind," he mutters to himself. A hand rests itself on your leg. "Do you want me to…?"

It starts trailing up and the weird feeling returns. You push his hand away.

"No."

"Oh, okay."

You sit in agonizing silence for several minutes, eyes on the stars, away from each other. Impulsive thoughts tell you to kiss him again but you're wracked with nervousness at the idea. He's maintaining some level of distance now and you don't understand why.

"I should really get going, it's pretty late."

"You've stayed out later before."

He hums. "Yeah. But I want to change out of this stupid outfit. I hate getting all dressed up."

"Why did you do it then?"

"I guess I just wanted to look nice…" he sighs.

"Hm." He looks better when he doesn't try so hard to be human. You like the way he looks in his ratty old clothes and long black coat. The way his hair bounces when he spins and chases you. Images of him pushing you against a wall are taking on a different filter now, his smirking as he runs fingers under your tunic, hues dark and eerie unlike the pristine white he wore today. Already you miss his hands on your body, though you aren't keen to admit it.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He stands up and you stand up too. There's absolutely no way he got any taller in the few hours you spent together, that's an impossibility, no creature can do that, but you suddenly feel so _short_ in his presence. A step forward, you're challenging him now.

"Seriously, I wanna get home…"

Maybe he does truly want that, but the way he looks at you is quickly becoming an addictive pull. You don't want to be alone.

"Then I'm coming with you."

He scoffs. "No you aren't, why would I let you into my house?"

A pout. A blink. He grimaces at your sad expression.

"Don't- don't _cry_ , geez. I guess… fine, whatever."

It's not much but you'll take whatever you can get. Dry leaves crunch against the sidewalk when you make it down the hill.

You wonder if he's still thinking about what you said. He looks lost in thought and you don't want to interrupt him just in case he's starting to believe you're right.

Of course you're right. You're Zim.

And Dib is fantastically intelligent, surely he can reach the same conclusion you did. He's been your match ever since you got here, surely he'll understand.

You skip, suddenly overcome with excessive hope.

If he agrees with you, you could make your fantasies a reality. You could leave everything behind, ignore everyone who never believed in you for the first person who did. You can show him so much. You could make it work, your finest talent is weaving gold from shame, oh Irk his presence as an ally would only make you stronger. You're so wrapped up in the euphoria, the whizzing sound of cars rushing by is muted.

You'd be together.

Your fingers are twitchy, you want nothing more than to grab him by his hand and squeeze, have him read your thoughts and then read them back to you in his most agreeable voice. Tallest, you're giddy at the idea of the most heinous form of betrayal to your planet. There's a strange pleasure in being self aware, in finally revoking your identity from something that only caused you pain.

He fumbles with the silver key extracted from his pocket and closes the door behind you both, flicking the lights on. In the sudden brightness, you notice the grass stains and dirt on what once was his elegant white shirt.

"Stay here, I'll be right back, I'm gonna go change."

He walks up the stairs and after a beat, you follow, not wanting to be left alone. You pause on the final step just as he starts to unbutton his shirt, facing away, door open. Your eyes are glued to the scene. Tossed to the floor with no concern, his fancy clothes drop from his body and he's left in nothing more than his lower undergarments; his pale skin is dusted with scratches and scars from what you can only assume were battle injuries. How odd it is humans wear so many layers of clothes and how odd it is the sight of bare skin is making you feel sparkly-warm again. He walks out of your view, returning in different underwear before he finally notices the open door, and you duck with a squeak.

"Hey! Are you seriously spying on me?"

"No!" You yell, averting your gaze.

"You totally are!" He shouts, voice muffled as he throws a pajama shirt over his head. "And they call me the stalker, at least I have the decency to be subtle about it… I thought I told you to wait downstairs." Dib's eyes skim over you. "Are you blushing?"

"Zim does not blush!"

He walks closer to you, your pulse fast enough to reach warp speeds. "Your cheeks are pink-" he cups the side of your face. "-and warm."

A thumb slides over your lips. Humiliation melting. Yes you are blushing. If you admit it, will he keep touching you?

"Did you like what you saw?" He grins, tongue between his teeth in a playful smirk. Breathing is not coming easy to you at the moment. Neither is thinking. His lips look soft. Pink. The night's earlier electricity is returning and with a lightning fast pull, you snag him into a kiss.

It isn't as natural or seamless, but you can work around a measly cultural barrier for the sake of desire. Surprised, but by no means agitated, he lets you kiss him. You have no sense of leverage being a step below him on the stairs, and in a movement reminiscent of an insect crawling, you straddle his waist, happy noises when his hands awkwardly touch your hips.

Pressure crescendoes inside you, the same strange feeling of fullness engulfing your lower region when he leaves quick wet pecks on your neck and starts pulling you closer, rocking you back and forth in his grasp. Eager hands tug at your clothes like candy wrappers and you're just about to let go, let this new sensation take over your body and relish in surprisingly pleasant friction when the door is suddenly slammed open.

"Shit!"

Dib pushes you off and scrambles down the stairs.

"Gaz? Are you oh."

Oh?

"Hi Dad..."

Dad?

You poke your head out, staring at the two between the wooden railing.

"Hello son. How was your day?"

"My day? _My day!?_ Dad how was _your_ day? What did you do huh? What was so important that you were doing? Huh? Huh?"

"Hm. Sounds like someone didn't have a good day."

"NO! No I didn't!" Dib shouts. "And you don't even know why do you?"

"Well I can't in good conscience assume to know what's wrong with you, you're going to have to explain yourself son."

"You are so- Gah! I don't believe it! You know what? Go ask Gaz! I'm sure she remembers what today was!"

It's quiet for a moment.

"...Was today your birthday?"

"No! You're not even close!"

You tiptoe into Dib's bedroom, trying to ignore the one-sided shouting match below. A few more words are exchanged before Dib stomps up the stairs and slams the door behind him.

"UNBELIEVABLE!"

You cringe at his volume, eyes bouncing back and forth to his manic pacing.

"I try to give people the benefit of the doubt and what do I get? Nothing! He doesn't care about me at all! Nobody on this whole fucking planet gives a shit about me and I'M the one trying to save them? It's ridiculous!"

He looks you dead in the eye.

"What if I stopped huh? Just let you take over? Maybe they'd believe me when your leaders come to enslave the human race and blow up the earth. I wouldn't mind going down if it means bringing them down too. They deserve it."

Yes, yes, yes, yes! Absolutely. Oh to have Dib working with you? Maybe that's even better than running away. Maybe you could keep your mission, but have Dib alongside you. Finish your mission, receive praise from the Tallest, all the while having Dib by your side. Oh Irk, oh Tallest, your chest is swelling beyond belief, you're shaking with excitement at the very thought.

You need to choose your next words very, very carefully. You're so close to the jackpot, so close to winning everything you've ever wanted, words can't be your downfall now.

"You're right, they do deserve it." He stops pacing and faces you. "But you can't go down with them, you're an asset Dib, you're far too capable a specimen." Your hand runs down his arm, clasping your fingers together. "You can't go out like that, so pathetic, so broken. You deserve to win, Dib. You deserve to know what winning feels like."

His eyes are big and shiny like hard candies and you fight the urge to grin maniacally. He leans over you, about a second away from climbing onto the mattress and pushing you into its soft embrace.

"I do deserve to win, don't I?"

"Of course you do, you deserve it all Dib." He pulls one of your gloves off and tosses it onto the floor, fixated on your clawed fingertips. "Just like me Dib. We deserve to take this filthy planet and make it ours." He kisses your palm and you shiver.

"I don't want to take over the earth."

He's unconvinced for the time being but pulling him on top of you seems to sway his opinion.

"Then we'll leave it behind, it can just be us."

Nestled into your shoulder, his hot breaths warm your neck. If it takes your body to win his favor, you can manage that.

"Just us…" he mutters. "Why would you want that?"

"Don't _you_ want it?"

A double entendre, you open your body and pull him closer. You know he wants _this_ , whatever this is. Impulsive and raw but he can't deny it.

"I can't…"

You drag his hand to your thigh like he did earlier in the grass and wait to see what happens.

"You can."

The softest touch you've ever felt grazes the spot where your leg meets hip. He's flushed beyond belief; pupils blown, face red, glasses askew.

"W-what are we talking about again?"

"Taking over the earth. Joining forces."

You can understand his confusion, your brain feels like someone took a meat cleaver to the thinky parts and all that's left is foggy tingles. Hesitantly, his fingers travel further up and you spread your legs in an attempt to welcome him. He pauses to gulp.

"Do you- do you know what's happening right now?"

Do you need to?

"Yes of course I know what's going on. Proceed."

Despite looking seemingly unconvinced by your words, he starts to rub at a snail's pace over your leggings. Head tilted back, your eyes are closed. The heat is only getting more and more engulfing at his slow rubbing until finally, you feel something move inside you.

"Wait!"

Dib pauses, immediately looking at you.

"I want to-"

You want to tell him the truth. You want him to understand you're still a little frightened, but you want him by your side more than both of those things. You can deal with the weirdness, with the touching, if it means you get your way.

You can pretend. That's what invaders are supposed to do.

"I want to… keep going."

"Keep going?" Dib echoes softly. "Like, like you wanna go all the way? _Tonight?_ "

"Eh. Is that bad?"

He bites his lip, hands on your thighs as he weighs his options.

"It's not _bad._ Well, for you I don't know, but..." A pause.

He's still trying to decide what to do, hands unmoving but not pulled away from your body. A glance at the door. A glance back at you. Finally, with a sigh, he leans down and kisses you, soft.

Another quick kiss and he lays down next to you, biting his finger nail. It's almost endearing. Why does this disgusting act not revolt you when it comes from him?

"Do you not want to touch me?"

"It's not that it's just, my dad's home, I can't stop thinking about…" he trails off before groaning. "He's such an asshole Zim."

You nod, letting him continue.

"All I have is my family and- and what's the point of saving the rest of the world if I can't even get my family to love me? How will I ever get anyone else to?"

He flops his head against the pillow and sighs.

"Maybe I wasn't meant to exist. I'm just a useless failure of a clone who's only reason for living at this point is exposing…"

He pauses.

"...you."

Amber eyes wide, you hold your breath. Does he understand what you've been telling him? Does he _finally_ understand?

Something flashes across his face, a realization.

"Zim," he asks softly. "Do you sleep?"

"Sleep? Not usually. Why?"

"I want you to stay here tonight."

Stay here? In his base?

"Where?"

"In my bed Zim, where else?" he laughs, eyes glazed over. "I want you to sleep next to me."

Arms pull you in and you can't believe it. He trusts you enough to have you by his side while he's vulnerable. There's a very clear romantic edge to sleeping in the same bed, and you are very aware of that fact, to the extent that the robo-parents do have a single bed they share, (not that it's ever used of course) just to keep up normal human appearances should the need arise. Does Dib think of you that way?

Like a mate?

He grumbles something about having to turn off the lights, and when he sinks back into the mattress with a soft squeak of the springs, you almost want to cry. You nestle into him perfectly, head on his chest, listening to the soothing sounds swimming about inside. You've never been this calm, going into sleep mode hardly seems like a chore.

Fuzzy feelings encapsulate you, his quiet sounds cocooning and stretching over the bed in a canopy of warmth. Victory has never been so sweet, and with Dib by your side, victory will have only just begun. You have so many chances to win. You can plan in the morning. You can kiss in the morning. It's so hard trying not to start scheming but you're saving that for when Dib wakes up. Oh how delicious it will be, two great, outstanding minds cast aside, your concoctions will be frighteningly powerful. You're so much stronger together than you ever were apart.

You've never loved anything like you love Dib.

Drifting away… the world fades to black.

**____**

You wake up with a loud gasp, cold metal digging into your wrists. Burning white lights.

"Wow, is your sleep cycle exactly 7 hours? That's fascinating."

Everything here is too bright. Where are you?

A black haired boy in a lab coat is jotting notes onto his clipboard. Your vision is still a little fuzzy but you squint, trying to get a closer look. He's not facing you but you can see the way his hair is gelled down, making it look wet.

"I tried to monitor your dreams, but I guess you don't dream huh? Your species doesn't seem to go into REM, it's almost like you just turn off for a while."

No, it can't be, that's not possible, _he wouldn't_ -

Your eyes widen when he turns around to face you. Smile big and toothy, he pokes you with a pen. You're naked. You're strapped to a table.

"You might not dream, but I've been dreaming about this for quite some time Zim."

Bleach colored sleeves stain your corneas and you can't bring yourself to look at him. He runs his pen from the top of your chest to your mid abdomen in a swift, gliding motion. This touch isn't romantic and gentle like it was in the grass, it's horrifically clinical.

Bright, bright white.

"What's going on here earth child? What are you planning to do with Zim?" You're trying to keep calm but your voice is wavering and panic is starting to flood.

Eyebrows raise. "What I've always planned for Zim. I'm going to expose you." A gloved hand rests on your chest, rapidly moving up and down as you hyperventilate. "I finally caught you. I finally get to win. Isn't that exciting?"

His grin is crazed and uncanny. Locked in on his target.

"I deserve to win, don't I? No one cares about me, you said it yourself. But they can't ignore me now, not when I have proof! Undeniable evidence of alien life!"

"W-what about me? Our plan?"

"What plan?"

Irkens don't dream but this has to be a cruel nightmare.

"O-our plan! We were going to conquer together! You were going to be by my side!"

"I don't recall saying that." His brown eyes have never looked so cruel and icy. "Is that what you thought was going to happen? That I would really run away with you? Did you think we were going to be _friends_?"

Hands drag down your stomach and you feel sick. His mocking voice chills your bones.

"Maybe even something more?"

Still air replaces his touches and you hate yourself for missing it at all. Still panicking you try to push your mind into anger but all you can muster is a broken half-fury.

"This is a cruel trick you rotten human! When I take over this planet your GIGANTIC head will be at my feet, severed from your weak worm baby body!"

"Oh that's funny, you think you can escape?" Dib laughs. "And even if you did, what's the point? Your mission isn't real."

"LIES! My mission is very real! More real than you!"

"Oh no, c'mon Zim, you know I'm smarter than that. It isn't real, you told me yourself. Don't try denying it now."

Your stomach drops. That was information told under the pretense of confidentiality, of understanding…

"That's the difference between us I guess huh? We might've both been failures, but I still managed to win."

...And he's mocking you with it.

"Good always prevails over evil in the long run. You can't be too surprised you lost. It was only inevitable the hero would pull through in the end." He hums, looking you up and down.

His fingers return to your belly, reassuring circles meaning absolutely nothing as your fried brain refuses to process anything.

"It is a little sad though. I won't be the one to do it… I wish I could, but they kept saying I'm too young, they won't let me."

"D-do what?"

He blinks, like the answer is obvious.

"Cut you open."

Oh no.

That's so much _worse_. Images of Dib, scalpel in hand, standing over you were bad enough, but now? Replaced with anonymous humans, faceless doctors leering at your exposed organs, poking and prodding and slicing. Cutting into you with none of the history, with none of the intimacy of Dib doing the act.

His fingers longingly trail down to your thighs, though his gaze is glued to what lies between. Despite yourself, you can't help but feel sickeningly warm when he looks at you like that. Teeth gritted as his fingers approach somewhere needy, but go no further, as if fenced off. 

"They have me on camera right now, they don't want me doing…"

His touch is gone once again.

"They don't want me interfering with the experiment," he mutters with a swallow.

Is that all you are to him? An experiment?

You hear a quiet beeping noise. Dib perks up, clicks his pen closed, and turns around.

"I have to go. Goodbye Zim."

He can't leave now! He can't leave you alone!

"Wait! NO! YOU STAY!"

His footsteps echo in the open lab.

"DIB!"

He's already left.

"FILTHY HUMAN! RELEASE ZIM! MY REVENGE WILL BE AGONIZING AND HORRIBLE!"

Your wrists are raw from tugging against the restraints. You can't access anything from your PAK and there's a dull ache in your lower back suggesting they may have snapped your PAK legs off completely.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN STOP ZIM!? PITIFUL FOOL BOY, I HAVE MANY PLANS IN MOTION JUST FOR SUCH AN OCCURRENCE!"

The air conditioning is loud and blustery.

"I DEMAND YOU RETURN AT ONCE!"

It's so cold.

This has to be a dream. It can't be real. Normal Irkens don't dream but you aren't a _normal_ Irken. That's easier to believe. This isn't real, it can't be real. None of it makes sense, why would your Dib betray you? The Dib who held you and kissed you last night. That had to be real, but this? It can't be.

Denial snares around you in it's half truths and hypocrisy and _oh_ it's warm and comfortable like an old blanket. What's real anymore? Your mission? Your love? Your capture? 

It's all blurred together. Contradicting orders firing off in your head all at once. Fast. Sharp pain shoots through your chest and head as scrambled mood swings hit you in the gut mercilessly.

You hate Dib.

You love Dib.

You want to die.

You need to live.

It's harsh and raw like the first gasp after a sleep cycle, when cool air hits the back of your throat and you finish passive breathing through your PAK. Your spooch is pounding like your organs can't wait to jump out and expose themselves. Maybe they will. Sliced open, who's to say your body wouldn't do such a thing as a last ditch effort to frighten and terrify?

Your throat is sore. Vision shaky. Closing your eyes, all you can do is relive yesterday before it gets tainted forever. Orange is stained in your mind as the last mild color, the sweet hue of the sunset where you poured your heart out to Dib. A perfectly clear day; hot but not unbearable. You can pretend the vent above your head is merely the late June wind, blowing across your face as the sky turns dark. Empty hands twitch at the memory of Dib's trembling fingers in yours.

How amusing that the first day of summer vacation would be your last taste of freedom.


End file.
